


Nobody

by Zana_Lee



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:07:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29887788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zana_Lee/pseuds/Zana_Lee
Summary: “Promise me,” you are breathless, your voice shaky from sadness and wanting at the same time. “At least for tonight, when you look at me…you won’t see her.”
Relationships: Jean Kirstein/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 58





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> MANGA SPOILER WARNING!!

NOBODY

**_“And I know no one will save me,  
I'm just asking for a kiss,  
Give me one good movie kiss,  
And I'll be alright.”_ **

Discharging yourself from the military was easier than you’d expected. With Paradis in a state of disarray, you hadn’t thought things would go so smoothly. Especially considering your role in the Survey Corps, as well as your participation in the final moments of the battle. But, no one questioned you beyond asking for your personnel details. No one asked _why_ you were leaving or what you would be doing from now on. It was all quite surprising. Almost stunned, you signed the papers and handed your uniform to the man on the other side of the desk and your heart cracked a little when he tossed it into the bin. The Wings of Freedom half peeking over the edge of it. The freedom you’d sought in joining the scouts. Had you achieved that? Maybe it was too soon to tell – but it sure as hell didn’t feel that way. Everything _hurt_ and it almost felt like you were floating above your body – that none of this was really _real._ Maybe you had died during those final moments and this was the afterlife…and endless loop in your head of all of your failures. Of every person you’d lost along the way. Your feet felt heavy as you moved towards the door as if you were leaving behind some important part of yourself. For the longest time the military was all you had to hold on to – the only thing that kept you somewhat sane. And now it was over. Just like that. One signature to end everything. _Well, not everything._ That was still to come.  
Outside the door, in the late afternoon light, Mikasa and – a little behind her – Levi approached the office. Both coming to a stop when the see you leaving, but its Mikasa who speaks first.  
“I know why you came here,”  
Of course she does. It had taken a while for you to find common ground with Mikasa – mostly everyone else had been easy, but not her. It had only been after graduating that you’d grown to become friends, to smile together.  
You look away first. Yes, much to your shame there was a time where you’d tried. To hate her. Because of him. You had tried, and failed. Because it was impossible to hate her for something like that. Something she had no control over.  
“I know you know.” You mumble back and suddenly Mikasa is there, right in front of you but there’s not even a moment to flinch as she throws her arms around your shoulders. You stare ahead with wide eyes, unsure of how to react and then, almost awkwardly, you swallow your fear and put your arms around her.  
“I wish you would stay.” She whispers into the embrace, “But I understand why you won’t. And I know you won’t be back either.”  
You choke up for the first time since making the decision. You knew you would cry, but you didn’t think it would be Mikasa to elicit that response.  
When she pulls back, there’s an embarrassed flush on her cheeks but she meets your gaze head-on. “You’re important to me. Please…have a good life.”  
You hastily wipe a stray tear from your cheek as if you could pretend it was never there. “Be happy, Mikasa.”  
Her eyes widen and she nods before turning and walking past you. _Her goodbye._  
You knew what those words meant when you said them to her – your inevitable heartbreak. But that was always going to happen. The moment you realized what you felt for him.  
Levi stepped closer, reaching up to place his hand on your head. His scars had healed nicely, but they would no doubt always remind him of the horrors they’d all survived.  
“Take care of yourself, kid.”  
“You too, heichou.”  
The corner of his mouth kicks up in a ghost of a smile as he pats your head and follows Mikasa into the office.  
You have one last stop to make – the hospital. You hadn’t intended to leave it to the last minute but perhaps a subconscious part of you hadn’t wanted to do this – a part of you had wanted to skip this part altogether. Because he would be able to convince you to stay and because saying goodbye to him would break your heart much more than the others. Because the truth was – the truth that no one knew – what that you fell in love with Jean long before you even realized it. Your heart and longed for him to look at you the same way he looked at Mikasa, you’d watched him with a broken heart for _years._ But now that the time came to finally say goodbye, it felt like an impossible hurdle to get over. To say those words. To finally cut the string you’d attached to him without even saying the words.  
“I was wondering when you’d show,” Reiner is there, in the hallway, outside of the room they were in.  
“To be honest, I wasn’t sure if I could do this.” You confess softly. “I still don’t know if I can.”  
Reiner doesn’t answer, he simply watches you, as if he knows there’s more to say.  
“Are you…” you inhale sharply. “Are you guys still getting on that boat tomorrow morning?”  
“We are.” Reiner confirms. “You still joining us?”  
“Yeah. I am.”  
“Then you better get in there and tell them.”  
“How are they?” Stalling. You are stalling and Reiner knows it, but he doesn’t judge you. He simply leans back against the wall and tells you, “They haven’t said much. After what they went through…can’t really blame them.”  
You nod and suddenly guilt fills you – for not coming sooner. For not – _no_ , it’s better this way. Easier for both of you.   
“But they’re both healthy.”  
“That’s…good. That’s really good.” Your voice breaks as you take one step and then another and another until you are in front of that impossible door, you watch – almost as if detached from your body once more – as your hand touches the doorknob and pushes it down. You see Connie first. Sitting up against the headboard, staring down at his hands, but he looks up when you step inside.  
“Oi-“  
“Where the hell have you been?”  
It’s _him._ His voice. Your head snaps to the side and you see him. _Finally._ He looks…perfect. Unharmed. Tired. But devastatingly handsome.  
“We’ve asked Reiner if you’d died more than once, you know.” Connie said and it takes you a moment to force your gaze from Jean.  
“I…I’m sorry. I should have come sooner.”  
“Damn right you should have.” Jean says and you can hear the anger in his voice. The betrayal. _Better get this over with then. Let him hate me. It will be easier._  
“I’m leaving.” The words tumble from your lips all at once and your hands clench into fists at your sides, anchoring you to the room.  
“What?” Jean’s voice is shaky, nearly a whisper.  
Connie understands first, his head drops and he nods. “You’re leaving us, then?”  
Your face crumples and you need to turn your face down to hide it, to force your sob back down.  
“Stay safe out there, okay?”  
You cross the room with hasty steps and throw your hands around him and after a moment, Connie reaches up to hug you back, his arms tight around you.  
“You too, Connie. Take care of yourself.” You are crying now, tears running down your cheeks as you cling to him and Connie’s arms tighten around you. He doesn’t ask you to stay although you know he wants to. You appreciate that he doesn’t.  
Jean still hasn’t said anything and when you turn to look at him, waiting, he doesn’t bother to hide the betrayal from his face.  
“Goodbye, Jean.”  
His eyes widen for just a moment before he turns his head away, refusing to say it back. A breathy sob leaves your throat and you turn, hurrying from the room before you can embarrass yourself.  
“See you tomorrow.” You tell Reiner hastily as you pass him, and he doesn’t stop you from leaving.

No one does.

You half expect Jean to chase after you. To try and stop you. To ask you not to leave him. But those are fantasies. Ones you intend to leave on the island – not matter how unrealistic that notion seemed.  
Your room in the barracks has been packed up for days, only a small travel bag remained and you would take nothing else with you. You hadn’t planned on leaving – not at first. But returning after everything left you feeling lost – empty. And all too quickly, your scars ripped wide open and the pain overwhelmed you rendering you useless – a shell. No one to turn to. Not because they didn’t care, but because they all felt a similar pain to yours – a pain that wouldn’t simply vanish over time. You couldn’t pick up the pieces here. Surrounded by what hurt you. And you couldn’t stay and watch them fall in love before your eyes. Fall truly in love. Because Mikasa would need him. Finally. And you couldn’t handle that too. The thought of it-  
“You can’t do this,”  
For a moment you think you are dreaming. That this couldn’t possibly be real. But it is. Jean is in the doorway – arms braced against it, his shirt half undone, his hair a mess.  
“Jean-“  
“ _No,_ listen to me. Don’t do this.” He demands and you want to give in. You want to stay with him. But that is a delusion.  
“I can’t stay, being here-“  
“Don’t you think I know that? _We all do_.” He pushes into the room, towering over you. “You’re running away.”  
You refuse to back down or step away from him. “Maybe I am. Is that so wrong?”  
“I never took you for a coward.” He says, his hands sliding up your arms to squeeze your shoulders. “Just stay,” his voice is a whisper now, low – enticing – full of promises, “It can be like before.”  
_Before._ When you were best friends. Scouts. Watching Sasha and Connie’s antics. Laughing together. Watching him watch Mikasa. Recognizing that longing in him – mirrored in you.  
Softly, you confess that, “I can’t give you that, Jean.”  
For a moment, he looks scared and his grip tightens on you slightly like he doesn’t want to lose you. “Then what? You’re just going to leave us behind? For how long?”  
When you don’t answer, his hands drop to his sides. “ _Forever?_ ”  
Your lids close, finally allowing the tears that had filled your eyes to fall.  
“Talk to me,” his fingers circled your shoulders once more, giving you a soft shake. “ _Please,_ give me something.”  
“Come with me,” you breathe, still not opening your eyes, “For tonight.”  
“What?”  
Your palm finds his chest and Jean tenses underneath your touch as your slide your hand up his chest blindly, finding his collarbone, his jaw and then his cheek. Your thumb slides over his lip back and forth, back and forth and your _feel_ his breath catch.  
_What do I have to lose now?_  
Your eyes open to him and Jean is staring down at you as if he’s never seen you before. It hurts. But…it also excites you.  
“Come with me. Just for tonight. In this perfect world where nothing else matters – not the past, no one but _us._ No one but me and you, Jean.”  
He says nothing as if stunned by your boldness, by your words.  
You step closer to him, tilting your head up to look at him as you push yourself up on your toes to press your lips to his cheek but Jean is still frozen in place. Have you shocked him? Did your half-confession really come as that much of a surprise?  
“What do you say?” you whisper, lips brushing against his skin. “Me and you, Jean?”  
“But-“ his voice is hoarse, “Tomorrow-?”  
“Shh,” you press your fingers to his lips. “Focus on right now. Stay here with me, if you want.”  
You feel the tension leaving his body and Jean’s arms slip around your waist, pulling you against him, his face buried into your neck.  
Despite your control of this situation, your heart hammers against your ribcage – so hard you are sure that Jean can feel in and his arms tighten around you, almost as if in response.  
“Okay,” the word leaves his lips in broken pieces, sinking into a dark place deep inside of your heart. A place you would not think about, not until you were far, far away.  
You take Jean’s hand and lead him from the room.  
“Where are you taking me?”  
You look over your shoulder at him, giving him the same saucy grin he was no doubt used to by now. “Don’t you trust me, Kirstein?”  
  
The where of it was a tavern just a little outside of the city. It was a place you’d discovered on your own, during the nights you’d been seeking an escape yourself. Much like tonight. Only, tonight, you weren’t alone.  
“What are we doing here?” Jean asks you, looking around. It definitely wasn’t a place he was used to frequenting. The people were too…loud. Happy. Drinking, dancing, laughing.  
“We are here to have fun, Jean. Have you forgotten how to do that?”  
He lifts a brow, unimpressed. “No,”  
“Pity, I was hoping to show you,”  
Jean huffs after staring at you for a moment, turning away, clearly embarrassed by your flirting.  
You wink at him and wave down the barkeep to order some drinks. They come in small little glasses and the bartender, an older man, smiles as he sets three of the glasses down in front of each of you, filling them with a brown liquid. Jean follows your lead easily, tipping one glass after another back and although he tries to hide it, he masks a slight cough at the way the alcohol burns down his throat.  
“Dance with me,”  
Jean gives you a long look.  
“You _do_ know how to dance, right?”  
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He holds his hand out and you take it easily. The alcohol was already starting to have the intended effect – to help you forget. To give you one night of happiness with him – something you were never destined to have. Soon, as he’s spinning you around, you can see the same change in him – the moment taking over. And the more drinks flow the more things seem to change, Jean holds you tighter, closer and you grow bolder. Kissing his cheek, his hands, his fingertips. And he lets you, and maybe you imagine the sparkle in his eyes when he does.  
Jean spins you and when he pulls you in close, the illusion shatters. “Why can’t you stay?”  
It takes you a moment to answer, “Jean, no.”  
He holds you against him, and you offer little resistance to pull away. “I understand you’re hurting. We all are. But there’s more to it. _I know you._ ”  
And so you tell him. “I can’t stay and watch you fall in love and have a family with her when I want you to be mine.”  
Jean tenses up for a moment and then he pulls back and kisses you. It happens so suddenly that there’s no time to prepare yourself for it. For kissing Jean Kirstein.  
Rendering a kiss down to its basest form – it would simply be explained as lips upon lips, a grazing of tongues – a connection. But kissing someone you were in love with was something entirely different. Perhaps it was a release of endorphins. Or hormones. But there was _something_ that made your heart race in that moment, something that had your hands shaking in his hair, something that caused that small, helpless sound to escape your throat, something in you that drove you forward, pushing you up on your toes – pulling him closer, kissing him back just as fiercely. And Jean kissed you with an edge of desperation, of longing as if he, too, had waited years for this.  
You wretch your mouth away from him, feeling sick as the realization hit you. “Don’t-“  
Jean’s touch is light on your chin, trying to guide your gaze to his. “What is-“  
“ _Promise me,”_ you are breathless, your voice shaky from sadness and wanting at the same time. “At least for tonight, when you look at me…you won’t see her.”  
Jean is stunned for a moment and then he gives a shake of his head. “Let me make this clear. You are the only one on my mind right now.”  
_Right now._ That was all you’d asked for.  
So, when Jean kisses you again, you allow yourself to get swept up in him again until you find yourself in the hallway leading to your room. The first rays of sun teasing the sky outside of the windows and Jean there, waiting for you. And you go to him. Already feeling the sensation of his fingers, a little shaky, on your buttons, undoing them one by one. Until eventually your shirt falls to the floor. Your chest rising and falling rapidly as his hands push the straps of your chemise from your shoulders, the cups slowly falling from your breasts before pooling around your ankles with your skirt. Jean stares at you, his expression half hunger, half pain. As if he doesn’t want you to leave but he’s terrified of saying anything – of losing this moment with you. And so, when you reach for his clothes, he allows you to undress him to. He wants you as much as you want him and when he kisses you and whispers against your lips, asking if it’s okay, if he can keep going, you pull him closer, kiss him harder and tell him _yes._  
When he touches you, it’s slow at first, his hands uncertain, but he becomes confident quickly – his mouth replacing his hands, and then his teeth – almost as if marking you will change things or at least burn these moments into your memory forever. Vindictively, even if it’s a lie – even if it’s just for right now, you mark him too – his neck, his chest, his thighs – because you want everyone to know that Jean Kirstein is yours. Your mind takes a snapshot of every moment in excruciating detail – the hand braced next to your head, fisting the sheets as his hips drive into you, snapping forward again and again – his other hand on your thigh, fingers digging in to your flesh with a bruising strength. And Jean. Watching you. That same hunger, that same pain in his eyes as he gazes down at you, pleasure drawing his face down – closer to you. But he doesn’t kiss you. As if that look alone will make you change your mind. As if it will make you stay.

But when it’s over Jean draws you close to him, and even though he tries, the alcohol and the exhaustion win, and he falls asleep, holding you tightly and you allow yourself to imagine what it would feel like – despite the pain it would bring you in the lonely years to come – to wake up in his arms, to be held by him like this every day.  
Like everything in your life, the dream is over too soon and you free yourself from his hold. Jean doesn’t stir, his brows draw together as if he feels your loss, but even as you hold your breath – a small part of you wishing he would wake and keep you from leaving, pull you back into his arms and hold you there forever – Jean doesn’t wake. Your hands shake as you lift the bag you packed and it takes everything in you not to look back as you shut the door. Somehow, you make it to the harbour in time. You must look like a mess, but Annie says nothing as you pass and Gabi is still too out of it to notice your presence. Reiner on the other hand follows you down the hallway without a word and as the ship drifts away from Paradis Island, your control finally breaks and the bag drops from your fingers as your shoulders start to shake. Reiner pulls you into his arms without a word and you let him. You break in his arms and Reiner says nothing and you cling to him, using him as if he would somehow hold you together. But maybe it was the other way around. In those moments, finally saying goodbye to Paradis, Reiner needed to be held together too.

Jean would wake, alone. But in the end, he would be fine. He would have Connie – and eventually, Mikasa to pick up the pieces. To make him whole and happy. To be what he wanted.

And that was all you ever wanted for him.

x-x-x-x-

[1/2]

Basically I read 138 today and I wasn’t done suffering apparently.  
  



	2. Break With Me

Nobody

Part 2

Break With Me

**_“Stay with me, break with me now,  
'Cause it's hurting when you let go,  
Hold my heart, just for a while,  
Before you let it let go.”_ **

Jean had always intended to come after you. Although, he never quite imagined that he would be asking _Reiner_ for anything. Least of all if he knew where you went. It took a lot for Jean to show up at Reiner’s apartment, the big guy seemed even more surprised to see Jean there than Jean himself was that he’d actually forced himself to show up.

Reiner actually looks around as if he hoped for _anyone_ else to be there as well. Most likely Levi or Mikasa – and both of them tried to kill him more than once.  
“Yo, Reiner. Been a while.”  
“…Yeah.” Reiner, still surprised, steps aside and Jean gave a nod, walking into Reiner’s – somewhat small – apartment in Liberio.   
Jean looks around the space. It’s poorly decorated, but he didn’t expect much in that department from someone like Reiner. There are a few plants on the windowsill and they seem to be alive at the very least.  
“Living here alone?” Jean dares to asks, turning to face Reiner.   
Reiner sees through it immediately. “Please tell me you were not expecting her to be here living with me.”  
Jean glances away sheepishly. Maybe, yes, in his worst nightmares he had expected to walk in here and find you walking around wearing Reiner’s shirt. Possibly after a night of passionate lovemaking. He had nothing to base the nightmare off of, perhaps just his own insecurities – you had left him after a night like that, after all.   
Reiner sighs. “So that’s why you’ve come. I knew it wasn’t just that you wanted to see _me_.” He didn’t look all that sad about it though.  
When Jean and Reiner had agreed to work together to defeat…the rumbling, it had made things less…antagonistic between them but the reality was, after hearing about what happened to Marco, they would never be friends again. That’s why it had been so hard for Jean to come out here and speak to Reiner. But it’s also true that you and Reiner had also been close friends and although Jean wasn’t sure if you’d ever found it in yourself to forgive Reiner for everything they’d caused, unlike him – you’d been able to put it aside.   
Jean sees no point in denying it. Reiner already knows the truth. “Yeah, that’s why I’m here.”  
Reiner nods, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I was wondering how long it would take you to come. Kind of have a running bet with Annie and Pieck.”  
Jean gives Reiner an unimpressed look but doesn’t answer.  
“Annie said never, by the way.”  
“Do you know where she is or not, Reiner?”  
Reiner’s gaze turns to the window but what Jean sees on his face is anything but confusion – what he sees there is _uncertainty_.  
“You do.”  
“Yeah,” Reiner admits. “I do know. She did her best to hide though, but I was worried. Used some military connections to track her down a couple of months ago.”  
Jean shoves his hands deep into his pockets as if that would stop him from shaking Reiner to just tell him everything. “And you found her?”  
“Yeah. We’ve all been visiting her every few weeks. Pieck insists on making sure she’s doing well.”  
“And is she?”  
“She’s…making progress.” Reiner says after a moment, as if he’s unsure how much information he should be giving Jean.  
Jean reads his face clearly enough though. “You’re not going to tell me…”  
“Jean, I don’t think she would want me to-“  
Jean is across the room in a flash, grabbing Reiner by the shirt. “You’re really doing this to me?” he demands, giving Reiner a shake, “Really? After everything?”  
Reiner remains unfazed, calm even. It only serves to piss Jean off even more. “Don’t do this to her, Jean.”  
“ _You owe me.”_  
Those three little words is all it takes. Reiner tenses up and then his eyes seem to close in defeat. Reiner confesses everything then. He writes the address down and instructs Jean on how to get to the small town somewhere in the countryside. When Jean steps out of the door, Reiner slumps into a chair, years of fatigue weighing his shoulders down – enough that Jean feels bad in some hidden part of his soul. The truth is, he does hate Reiner, sure. But another part of him – a part he resents – still cares about his friend, which is why he came here instead of asking Pieck or Annie, because he wanted to check on Reiner as well.

Jean’s guilt sickened him.

But it also made him feel like he was still a person. It reminded him he was human and after everything that happened, he clung to that. That he was human and not…something else.  
  


He arrives at the address Reiner had given him sometime after nightfall. It’s an older apartment building but there is no security, his lips turn down as he steps right through the front door and takes the stairs up to the first floor where your apartment waited. It’s as he is halfway up the stairs that the nerves set in to his stomach and his heart begins to race. This entire time he’d simply been thinking of _finding_ you but not what he would say when he finally did. Now that he is here…it doesn’t seem real. Nearly an entire year went by from when he’d last seen you. Those moments burned into his memory – your taste, your smell, the feel of your skin on his. Moments that haunted him late into the night. Some nights it would hurt and others he would wake in a fever, half asleep he would hear those sounds you made for him, feel your mouth on his skin, your nails on his back and he would be unable to stop his hand from drifting down under the blankets.   
Jean stills at the top of the stairs shaking his head to clear it, although he could already feel heat on his cheeks. Now definitely wasn’t the time to be thinking about that. He takes a deep breath and turns on the landing, heading for the door with the brass number ‘3’ on it. It was exactly where Reiner said it would be, to the left of the stairs. Jean inhales once again as if that would steel his nerves somehow, but he doesn’t hesitate, taking a few steps brings him closer to your door. He lifts his hand, knocking three times – three purposeful raps against the wood. But there’s no answer. Jean is holding his breath, leaning in to listen for any movement behind the door but all is quiet. He tries to knock again. But once again, there’s no answer. It’s too early for you to be asleep and too late for you to be out. And yet – that would be the only explanation. He tries not to imagine the possibilities of where you could have gone and instead sits down, leaning his back against your door, closing his eyes as he intends to wait – for as long as it takes for you to return.   
  
Of course, he’d assumed showing up in your room that day and simply demanding you stay would have been enough. Naturally, finding you gone the next day had been an unwelcome wake up call. At the time, he’d had no idea how to explain the panic he’d felt when you’d announced to them that you were leaving. It was strange – although Jean had always found you beautiful and had known that at times he’d been slightly enamoured with you – when you smiled only for him or laughed so wholeheartedly with Sasha that he’d forget himself for a second, but even then he’d never considered the fact that such feelings existed between the two of you. Perhaps a part of him had even denied those emotions because – how could he truly feel that for someone when his heart already belonged to Mikasa? And yet, that night when you’d softly alluded to a confession of that kind, he’d been happy. He’d felt a kind of joy that he thought he was no longer capable of feeling. That _you_ felt something like that for him. That it seemed you always had. And truth be told – he’d wanted to get lost in you as much as you’d wanted to find that escape with him. While waking up alone had hurt as much as he’d expected, Jean had refused to accept that that was it. That this was how your story was supposed to end. He’d clung to his feelings for Mikasa for a long time, maybe he’d even hid behind them because it was safe, because he’d known that somehow she would never return what he felt and if she by some miracle did – it would always be a shell of what she felt for Eren. Was that really what he wanted?

It wasn’t.

But even in realizing that, Jean still had no idea what to make of what had happened between the two of you. He didn’t quite know how to process the feelings he’d denied himself for years. The feelings for you. His best friend. The devastation he felt in your absence was greater than he could have imagined. It was a struggle at first, a constant need to remind himself that you weren’t there. That he couldn’t find you and talk to you whenever he wanted. Somehow, before he’d realized it, he’d practically moved into your room. Sleeping in your bed where your scent began to fade all too quickly.   
“You do realize that this is the women’s dorm, right Kirstein?”   
Levi had caught him one morning as the heichou was coming down the stairs from the men’s dormitory.  
“Yeah, I know that.” Jean had attempted to play it cool but Levi, being the observant asshole that he was, eyed the room at the end of the hallway before returning his gaze to Jean.  
“You need to start sleeping in your own room.” Levi said and continued down the stairs without another word. It was his way of saying that Jean needed to stop this, that he needed to accept she was gone. Levi wasn’t one to get involved but Jean knew he was right. The decision was made for him however, because when he’d returned later that night, a new recruit had moved into the room. The encounter was awkward, because honestly, what the hell was he doing at a fifteen year old recruit’s door in the middle of the night. Jean had played it off, pretending he was drunk off of his ass and at the wrong door. But it had been another wake up call. One that finally sunk in to his thick skull.

You were gone.

And you weren’t coming back.

The question was, could Jean leave it at that? It had been months since you left. And as far as he knew, no one had heard from you. At first he’d attempted to throw himself into his new work, as a captain he was sent with his squad all over the island, stationed in some places for a few weeks. The military was in disarray and the factions no longer existed. They were simply known as the Paradis Defence Force. The remaining soldiers couldn’t do much if anything did happen but while they waited months for some kind of attack from the other nations – nothing came. Hizuru continued to be the only nation to trade with Paradis – mostly because they wanted resources only Paradis had and somewhat because Mikasa asked them.

Marley remained quiet. Jean assumed it was because perhaps they were regrouping. But intelligence suggested the opposite. They were now truly happy to pretend that Paradis just didn’t exist. Perhaps they didn’t quite believe that the time of the Titans had finally come to an end and that the rumbling was no longer a threat. Whatever it was, Jean was grateful for any amount of peace they were awarded. No matter the distractions the military life provided him, he always returned home and the cycle would start over again. With Connie being on his squad and usually insisting getting everyone from the old special ops together – but not you. You weren’t there. And he felt your absence every time. Enough that he simply would not have gone if Connie hadn’t insisted in his usual way. Your spot next to Mikasa remained empty and it angered Jean more and more every time. Yes, he’d gone through all the stages – denial, anger, grief. But never acceptance. There was no fucking way he would ever accept that you weren’t a part of his life anymore.

There was a time when he’d imagined a life with Mikasa. Marriage, children, domestic bliss – all of it. But he hadn’t been able to see that daydream anymore. Not since that night with you. Thinking of it now felt like a betrayal. Which in itself made no sense. You weren’t his and he wasn’t yours – not by any stretch of the imagination. Hell, you left him in bed. He’d thought that maybe it would fade, the memories, you – would fade from him. But the opposite happened. Each day the need just became worse. Because, fuck, he wanted you. He wanted that daydream with you.  
And he just wasn’t ready to give up on that.

When you return a few hours later, you aren’t alone. There is a man with you and Jean can see the two of you reflected in the large window in the foyer. The man is a little older than you are but not even nearly as attractive as Jean, even he could see that. You appear to have been on a date with this man, dressed in a pretty red dress and black heels – Marely fashion, nothing you would have worn on Paradis, and seeing you all dressed up with this stranger sends a nasty streak of possessiveness through Jean at the thought. His hands clench into fists and it takes everything in him not to jump up as the man leans in for a kiss but he needn’t have been worried. It’s almost comical how quickly you turn your face away to avoid his lips. The man is momentarily stunned.   
“Oh – I –“ he stutters pathetically.  
You don’t apologize and the silence turns even more awkward.  
“I thought that went well?” He continues.   
“The food was nice.” You say and Jean almost feels bad for the man, you were always blunt to a fault and thankfully that hadn’t changed.  
“Right, well, I’ll see you around, then.”  
You wave him off and he hurries out of the door when you turn, the sigh you give is clearly one of relief. Why go out with this man if you don’t like him? It’s puzzling to Jean but there’s no time to contemplate it. You come up the stairs slowly, as if the night had drained you and it’s only when you reach the top of the landing that you spot him, sitting in front of your door – one leg stretched out in front of him, the other pulled up, his arm resting on top of it. Jean watches your body lock up, your hand tightening on the bannister so hard that it creaks underneath your hold. And then you relax all at once, giving a shake of your head, you come forward, rummaging through your handbag for the key.   
It takes him a moment to realize what’s going on as you reach forward to unlock the door.  
“You’re not fucking hallucinating me.”  
You jump, letting out a squeal as the keys drop from your fingers and into his lap. For a moment you just stare at each other, your eyes wide, face pale.  
“Yes, _I am, Jean._ There’s no way you are here right now.”  
He doesn’t miss a beat. “Who was the old dude?”  
“Old- he’s not that old.” You deny.  
“He looked like he was Levi’s age. Is that what you’re into now? Should I tell heich-“  
“ _Shut up, Jean._ ” You hiss, grabbing your keys from his lap and unlocking the door, but the trembling in your hands cause you to miss the keyhole about three times before you finally unlock the door and shove it open. Jean rises to his full height and you seem stunned for a moment – not as if you’d forgotten how tall he is but as if you’d forgotten how much you _like_ how tall his is.   
Jean steps into the apartment after you and you mumble about him inviting himself in. He pretends not to notice, kicking the door shut behind him. You seem nervous but Jean doesn’t comment on the way your hands shake or how you refuse to meet his eyes.   
“Tea?” you sound breathless and Jean can’t help but like what his presence does to you.  
“Please.” He sits down at the small dining table, kicking his feet up onto it.  
You turn, glaring at him, your eyes going from the boots and back up to his face several times – somehow _still_ without properly meeting his gaze.  
“Boots.”   
Jean simply takes his feet down and begins unlacing his boots.  
“I didn’t mean _get comfortable_ , Jean.”  
He ignores you, continuing to take his boots off and you sigh sharply, throwing your arms up in defeat as you turn back to the stove. Jean takes a moment then to observe the apartment. It is bare, like Reiner’s, but there is clutter everywhere. Books are scattered around the apartment. Small decorations that don’t even seem to match. It is exactly what he imagined it would look like and as his eyes return to you, bending over the stove. He feels a strange warmth in his chest, kind of the same thing he’d felt that night when you’d placed your hand there and felt his heartbeat. He swallows heavily, suddenly feeling nervous all over again. Not about seeing you, but about being around you.   
“Ask me,” he says just to fill the silence as if you speaking to him would calm him somehow.  
It has to opposite effect.  
“What have you been up to?”  
 _Not that._ He wants to say. _Ask me about her. Ask me why I’ve come._  
But he answers you anyway. “They made me captain.”  
When you turn your gaze to him, you look truly happy for him. “That’s great, Jean.”  
“Yeah,” he rubs his hand along the back of his neck. “Connie is on my squad. They’ve mostly been sending us around the island to catch some impending attack.”  
“No one is going to attack Paradis Island.” You say quietly and Jean agrees. “I don’t think they will either.”  
You nod and glance back at him. “Your turn. Ask me something.”  
Oh, you were playing that game, then?  
“Who was the guy you came back with?” he asks again and this time you answer.   
“He asked me to dinner.”  
“And you went?”  
“I felt like I should.” Your voice is quiet.  
When Jean asks, his voice is just as quiet. “Should what?”  
“Move on with my life.”  
He feels…jealous. Angry. Sad. All at the same time. “But you didn’t. You rejected him.”  
“I did.”  
“Why?”  
You shake your head, a sad smile on your lips. “It’s my turn, Jean.”  
He sighs and waves a hand. “Fine.”  
“Have you been dating?” you ask not looking at him as you continue to prepare the tea.  
Jean is unimpressed. He expected a more direct question. “No.”  
“No? Why? No time?”  
Unlike you, he doesn’t deflect the question. “No, because I don’t want to.” He doesn’t miss a beat. “Why did you reject him?”  
“Jean-“ you try but Jean shakes his head, “You know why.” Is all you say.   
He does know, but he wants you to say it.   
“How’s Mikasa?” you say before he can push it but Jean isn’t disappointed. He was waiting for you to ask, after all.  
“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t spoken to her in a while.”  
Your hand pauses, hovering over the teacup for a second too long. “I –“ a deep inhale. “You don’t know?”  
Jean gives you a pointed look. “I don’t.”  
He watches you suck your bottom lip between your teeth and his eyes immediately fixate on it.   
“So,” he clears his throat. “What have you been up to here? Besides dating old men as a distraction when you know all you really want is me.”  
You ignore that, but there’s no mistaking the way your cheeks burn as you continue to pour the tea into the cups. “I’m working as a doctor’s assistant during the week.”  
“A…doctor’s assistant?” Jean sounds unsure, as if he pictured you doing anything but that.  
“Yes.” Your hands are still trembling when you bring his cup over, no sugar or milk on the table – you already know how he likes his tea.  
That fact that you remember doesn’t go unnoticed by him. It’s as you set the cup down in front of him that Jean grabs your wrist, thumb almost _caressing_ over your pulse, and you meet his eyes for the first time since he’d arrived.  
You can’t help yourself, “So you and Mikasa…?”  
Jean doesn’t waver. “No.”  
Your eyes dip down to his lips for a fraction of a second, but it’s long enough for it to not go unnoticed by him. You pull yourself free from his grip to retrieve your own cup before sitting down at the table opposite him.   
Jean doesn’t touch his tea, he stares at you from across the table, his eyes willing you to say it. But you don’t. And neither does he.   
“Whose turn is it?” you ask after a moment.   
“Mine.” Jean says immediately, although he’s not quite sure himself, “Do you think about it?”  
You don’t ask what _it_ is. You know. Your lips part in a soft inhale and your lashes lift as you meet his gaze for a second time. “Yes, Jean. I do. Do you?”  
“All the time.” He says without hesitating.   
You set the cup down on the table. “Why have you come here?”  
“Do you really need to ask.”  
“I guess not. You’re wasting your time, Jean, I’m not-“  
Jean gets to his feet so quickly that the words die in your throat. “And what? You stay here and continue to carry the doctor’s bag around as he does house calls? Is that what you want?”  
You stand too, fists clenched at your sides, anger flushed on your skin. “As opposed to what? Coming home? Joining your squad with Connie and giving you hell for the rest of your days?”  
Jean stares at you for a long moment and then his eyes flip down to the table. “I would take anything if it meant you would come home.”  
“What if this is my home now?” you ask, your voice soft.  
Jean comes around the table. “We both know it’s not.” His hand lifts slowly, giving you every opportunity to move away – to reject him like you did that man. You don’t move. His knuckles brush over your cheekbone, followed by his fingertips as they slide over your skin to cup your cheek. “I’ll take you any way I can have you. Even if you return home but you decide you no longer want me – that’s fine too. But I don’t think I can walk out of that door and go back to that life without you.” When he inhales, it’s shaky, uneven. And then he kisses you it’s soft, coaxing, unhurried and filled with every bit of yearning he’s felt for you since the moment you left. And you don’t push him away – his name is a broken prayer on your lips as you kiss him back, pressing your lips against his once, twice before you pull him in, your arms going around his shoulders, your mouth opening to him, your tears wetting his cheeks. And when his arm goes around your waist and he crushes you against his body – you know this is a battle you’ve already lost. Jean lifts you up, setting you down on the table. The tea cups rattle and tip over – one of them crashing down onto the wooden floor but neither of you have it in you to care.   
“Come home with me,” Jean says breathlessly into your lips, his fingers already at the buttons of your blouse, working to get them loose.  
You tug at his hair. “Order me to return, _captain._ ”   
A low, pleased sound leaves his throat as his hands grip your shirt, impatiently ripping the buttons apart, sending them flying across the room. Jean pushes you down on the table as he stands between your thighs and stares down at you, your shirt parted around your torso, chemise doing nothing to hide what waited underneath. Warm sweet tea seeps through your shirt but you hardly notice.   
His eyes are serious when he says it. “I order you to return, soldier.”  
You grip his hands, sliding them up along your sides. “ _Yes, captain._ ”  
Jean leans over you, his mouth at your neck but you can feel the vulnerability in him. “Promise?”  
 _I don’t think I can walk out of that door and go back to that life without you_.  
Your fingers slide into his hair again and you turn your face to press your lips to his forehead. “You’re all I ever think about, Jean.” He shudders against you, fingers digging into the skin right below your ribs. “I don’t think I could let you leave here and go back to the way I’ve been living. It’s kind of embarrassing how desperate I feel when I think about you.”  
And when you reach for his belt, Jean doesn’t stop you. He lifts his head to look at you, to watch you undress him with eager, trembling hands.   
“Kiss me,”  
He doesn’t hesitate. Jean grips your thighs, pulling you against him, his mouth already on yours as his hands work to push your skirt up around your hips.  
“I love you, you know that right?” his voice doesn’t waver as he says it, as if him coming here hadn’t made that abundantly clear to you.  
“Really?”  
“You’re supposed to say it back.” He grumbles against your lips.  
Your lips lift into a grin as you lean back. “I love you, Jean Kirstein.”  
Jean considers it, nodding slightly. “The delivery could use a little work, but-“  
“Shut up, Kirstein.” And when you kiss him again teeth grazing his lip, Jean shudders. “Can I…?”  
“You’re really asking me that after you ripped my shirt and I basically undressed you?”  
Jean’s lip kicks up at the corner. “Yeah?”  
When you roll your eyes, Jean grips your chin between two fingers, his eyes narrowed. “You can’t treat your captain like this.”  
“Why? Is my captain going to punish me?”  
Jean seems a bit shocked at first but then he seems to consider it. “Yeah, I guess I am.”  
And he does – only it’s not much of a punishment and you both know it. Your memory of that night doesn’t do it justice – feeling Jean in this way. It makes you want to cry all over again. But you manage not to – not until it’s all over and Jean is holding you in bed once again – this time he resists falling asleep and when you start crying he turns you to him and kisses your hair as you cling to him. Leaving had healed something in you, but isolating yourself had done more damage than you’d realized until the moment you’d seen Jean at your door. It had been like everything you’d managed to lock away in the last year forced its way out into the open and try as you might – there was no way to stop it. You fell asleep like that, cheeks still wet with tears and when you opened your eyes, Jean was still there. He stayed, watching you pack the very bag you’d left Paradis with.

And when he held his hand out to you, waiting at the open door, you didn’t hesitate.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
